


Dealing With The Amateur Detective

by DoctorBilly



Series: Tales from the Billyverse [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Billyverse, M/M, Sherstrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2124732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorBilly/pseuds/DoctorBilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade takes Sherlock to a conference.</p><p>Tags: consensual sex</p><p>Set during <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2112651/chapters/4608687">Only Forward</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dealing With The Amateur Detective

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally intended as a chapter in my longer story, [Only Forward](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2112651/chapters/4608687), but it works better as a standalone.

"Sherlock, if you don't stop fidgeting, I swear I will throw you out of this car."

Lestrade is seriously irritated. They are barely north of Watford, with hours more driving to go, and Sherlock is wriggling around in the passenger seat of the car. He has knocked the indicators on twice, the wipers three times, and has just knocked the car out of gear, making Lestrade swear as he struggles to control the vehicle.

"We need to stop, Gary. I need to urinate."

" _Greg._ Why didn't you go for a piss when we were getting petrol?"

"I didn't want to go then."

"But it was only a few miles back. You could have gone, even if you weren't desperate."

"Do you seriously think I would use a service station lavatory if I didn't need to?"

"But now you do need to, and there isn't another one for fifty miles. You'll have to hold on. I can't just stop on a motorway."

"I can't hold on. If you don't stop I will pee all over the seat of the car."

"If you do, I will make you sit in it until Carlisle."

"I really need to urinate, Lestrade."

Sherlock is beginning to sound desperate, squirming in his seat. 

Lestrade sighs, pulls over onto the hard shoulder and puts his hazard lights on. He switches his blues on for good measure. A police car is less likely to be reported by do-gooders. 

"Out. Piss against the back wheel. No one will see. Then get in the back seat. I've had enough of your fidgeting in the front." 

Sherlock gets out and urinates against the back wheel. He manages to get it on his shoes. Lestrade doesn't notice. 

"May I borrow your handkerchief? I need to wipe…"

Lestrade sighs, hands his handkerchief through the half-open passenger window, then pointedly locks the front passenger door. 

Sherlock wipes his shoes with the handkerchief, then offers it back to Lestrade, who looks at him disbelievingly. He drops it on the ground and stands next to the front door, tapping his foot. 

Lestrade stares straight ahead, clenches his teeth, tries to wait him out. Fails miserably. He unlocks the front door and Sherlock climbs in, smirking.

*********

"Sherlock, put them away, please."

"But I need one, Gavin. Please. Just one…"

" _Greg._ Not in the car. It's just been valeted, and there's rules. The car is police property. No smoking on police property."

"Rules."

Sherlock scoffs.

Lestrade knows Sherlock's feelings about rules. They are there as a challenge. He grabs the cigarette packet and stows it in the glove compartment on his own side of the dash. 

Sherlock spends the next hour sulking. He is very good at it. He spends the following fifteen minutes calling Lestrade Grady, Grant, Gordon; deducing the minutiae of his life and irritating the hell out of the DCI. He is about to tell Lestrade two very important things he has deduced when his own sense of self-preservation kicks in and he swallows his words. 

Lestrade pulls into a service station, gets out of the car and lights a cigarette. Sherlock scowls at him, then sidles up beside him. They both lean against the car. Lestrade hands Sherlock the cigarette. He grins, takes a long drag and hands it back. They share the cigarette companionably. This is an old habit that they have fallen back into easily. 

They buy coffee and sandwiches in the service station cafe. Lestrade insists that Sherlock eats. They have a small battle, and Lestrade concedes a draw when Sherlock eats the cheese and tomato from his sandwich, leaving the bread. Lestrade wins the battle of the lavatory, insisting that Sherlock uses the facilities. He only blushes a little bit when Sherlock casts an openly admiring glance at his tattoo as he uses the urinal. 

It is getting dark as they drive away. Sherlock sleeps the rest of the way to Carlisle, giving Lestrade some peace, but making him worry about what will happen when they get to the conference centre and Sherlock is awake for the rest of the night. 

*********

Lestrade has showered, changed into pyjama pants and a t-shirt and has spent an hour drinking bad coffee, made using the sachets provided, while reviewing his notes for the conference session he will be leading. His topic is 'Dealing With The Amateur Detective'. He knows he has been invited to deliver the session because of his known association with Sherlock. He has brought Sherlock as co-presenter, knowing that exposure to the actual consulting detective will give a much better idea of the benefits and yes, pitfalls, of working with the man than his words alone will provide. Sherlock had only bristled a little at the use of the word "amateur" to describe him. Lestrade closes his laptop and places it on the bedside table, switches off the light and settles down to sleep. 

The snicking of his bedroom door lock wakes him, and he sighs. 

"Sherlock, please. I need to sleep."

"I won't stop you sleeping. My room is freezing, Gideon."

" _Greg._ If you think I'm letting you in my bed when you can't even remember my name…"

"I'm cold, _Greg._ You're always so warm, _Greg._ I promise not to fidget, _Greg_. I can be really still…"

"All right. All right. Enough. Just don't put your cold feet on my… urgh."

Sherlock snuggles up to the DCI's back, wrapping his arms and legs around him, and nuzzling his neck. 

"Mmmm. Warm."

Lestrade is wide awake, trying not to notice that he has an erection, and failing as Sherlock's cold fingers brush against it. 

"Hands, Sherlock…"

"You want it…"

Lestrade turns to face the consulting detective, twines his fingers into dark curls. 

"Yeah. But I need sleep…"

"You'll sleep better afterwards."

Sherlock slides his hands into Lestrade's pyjama pants, squeezes his arse, slips his fingers into the cleft between the cheeks. Lestrade groans. 

"I'm not letting you bugger me, Sherlock."

"No. You never do. It's a source of great disappointment to me. I'll let you bugger me if you like…"

"As lovely as that sounds, I really do need to sleep."

"Your cock says otherwise…"

Sherlock slides down the bed, pushing Lestrade's pyjama pants down as he goes. 

Lestrade catches his breath. Sherlock has broken into his flat countless times, climbed into bed with him on numerous occasions, but they have never done anything more intimate than cuddling. He had expected Sherlock to pout a bit, as usual, nothing more. 

Sherlock gently strokes his fingers over scar tissue on Lestrade's belly, cock and thigh, kisses along the tattoo that covers the scars. 

He takes the head of the DCI's cock into his mouth. Lestrade gasps as the heat of Sherlock's mouth surrounds him, his hips buck of their own volition. 

Sherlock is really good at this, sucking and swirling his tongue, taking Lestrade's cock deep, and swallowing as Lestrade groans and comes. 

He smiles, and turns his back, drawing the DCI's arms around him. Lestrade grasps Sherlock's cock, and Sherlock covers his hand with his own as he strokes him to climax. Sherlock pulls off his own t-shirt, uses it to clean up, then curls up on his side, Lestrade big-spooning against his back, kissing his neck and shoulder. 

They sleep. 

*********

The next morning, they go to breakfast, where Sherlock, to Lestrade's surprise, eats bacon and mushrooms on toast, and drinks orange juice. Lestrade has the full English. Sex always gives him an appetite next morning. It seems that it does the same for Sherlock. 

Over breakfast, they hear that there has been a spate of thefts from guests' rooms, including the theft of a laptop the previous day from the room of a DI from Yorkshire who had arrived a day early for the conference and had left it in his room while he went sight-seeing. 

Lestrade's conference session goes down very well, particularly as Sherlock shows off his talents by identifying the thief (a temporary barman) and pinpointing the most probable hiding place for the missing property during the actual session. 

The stolen goods are found exactly where Sherlock had predicted they would be. The DI from Yorkshire is suitably impressed. The local police take a Sherlock tongue-bashing, which gives Lestrade the opportunity to highlight some of the pitfalls of working with a genius detective. 

Once Lestrade's session is over, he relaxes and enjoys the rest of the day. There is a session on new forensic techniques that Sherlock is keen to attend, and Lestrade goes with him. 

The lecture theatre seats are close together, and Lestrade is very conscious of Sherlock sitting next to him, thigh to thigh. The consulting detective stays close to him all day, and that night doesn't even make a pretence of going to his own room. 

They have gentle sex. Lestrade buggers Sherlock, then gives him a blowjob. He isn't confident at oral sex. His only previous experience has been with Billy Wiggins, who he'd loved and lost, and he cries a bit, remembering. Sherlock praises his technique and holds him in his arms until he sleeps. 

*********

It is the end of day two of the conference. Sherlock has stayed close to Lestrade again all day. And has climbed into the DCI's bed again. 

"What are you getting from this, Sherlock?"

"From what, exactly?"

"From being here, with me."

"Ah. What do you want me to say, Lestrade?"

"The truth. You've been staying close to me. You haven't been abusive. Well, not much, anyway. You're touchy-feely. We've had sex three nights running…"

"It feels as if I have been given a present. Three days of Lestrade. Sex, forensics, new police to deduce and abuse, and a bonus crime to solve. It has been excellent."

"No strings?"

"Maybe some little strings. I have always had feelings for you, Lestrade, from when you first rescued me, all those years ago. I think I always will, but we would hate each other if we were together for more than a few days."

"Yeah. I've always loved you, too, in a way. Wish I'd had the courage to do something about it earlier. Before John, before Billy…We would be rubbish together, wouldn't we? We'd end up killing each other. I'd like to do this again though. It's been a gift for me, too."

"Yes. Next year's conference?"

Lestrade laughs

"I'll put it in my diary. Dirty weekend with Sherlock."

**Author's Note:**

> …but what are the two important things Sherlock deduces?
> 
>  
> 
> To find out how Lestrade got his tattoo, read my longer story, [Lacuna](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1937112/chapters/4197555).


End file.
